International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation
by Kefalion
Summary: Sam and Dean are caught by what they believe is a federal agent while doing a simple salt and burn. They get talking and things weren't exactly what they appeared to be.
1. Chapter 1

**International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation**

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This story is part of my request series **All About Harry**. Do you want to make a request? Look at my bio page for info.

This is a crossover between Supernatural and Harry Potter. The idea that spawned this story was that what would happen (season 1-2 mainly (, and yet this ended up set in season 3…)) if the Winchesters had help to call upon for things, if there was a more organized society of hunters. Enter Harry Potter.

I don't own Supernatural, Harry Potter or anything else you might recognize.

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**Chapter 1  
**_Words: 1 008_

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"Time to burn, bitch," Dean muttered and threw the lit match down into the grave, torching the old bones. He and Sam had gone for a simple salt and burn. It was easy compared to a lot of the stuff they got up to. It was basically a restless sprit causing a bit of trouble; it was on their way so they took care of it.

The case was in a small, no-name town just off the highway. The woman had been buried in a graveyard which was in proportion to the town, meaning that it was tiny and that they had been able to take care of it in the middle of the day without drawing any attention; there was simply no one there to see them.

"Well, that's that," Sam said, picking up the shovel, and brushing off dirt from his hands.

"Yeah, let's hit the road again."

"Put your hands where I can see them!"

"You have got to be kidding me," Dean muttered and dropped everything he was holding, putting his hands in the air, seeing that Sam was doing the same as they heard the commanding voice. It was just their luck to get stopped by a cop in the middle of nowhere.

"Turn around slowly."

The Winchesters followed the order. The voice which had given it brokered no argument, even though the words were spoken with a noticeable English accent, which just made them wonder why a British guy was there of all places, catching them doing something rather questionable.

They turned and in the broad daylight they could see the man. He was of average height, about their age, with glasses and dark hair. He even dressed like them, jeans, shirt and a leather jacket.

Dean's first guess, judging by appearance alone, would have been to say that the man was a hunter. He had the same haunted look in his eyes, but the whole police crap about putting your hands in the air blew that theory away. No hunter would do that, they would generally shoot first and ask questions later.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," the man said, now clearing up the issue as to how he had found them, that is, by looking especially for them. "You boys have been keeping busy. I could arrest you for impersonation of federal agents, theft, destruction of property, card fraud, murder, kidnapping and have you had a look at that," he said dryly,"grave desecration."

"Yeah, thanks, we know what we did." Though Dean wasn't looking at Sam he could feel the glare. You simply did not talk back to a person holding a gun at you, a police officer holding a gun no less and of course little Sammy would be pissed when he went and broke the rules.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, trying to keep a calm tone. "You obviously know about us."

"How rude of me," the man said sarcastically. "I would show you my badge…"

"Then do so."

"Fair enough." The man took up a badge from his jeans pocket. "Agent Harry Potter, at your service." They couldn't see exactly what it said, but it looked authentic enough, not to say that the ones they had didn't, so it really wasn't any solid proof.

The man put the badge away, all without the gun ever wavering. "With that out of the way... may I just say that you were hard to track down? Never long in one place. Gotta go where the ghosts are, right? Demons, witches… What else are there? Dragons, werewolves, pixies? But you are the good guys, so it's all good."

Dean knew mockery when he heard it. "You've been talking to Henriksen, haven't you?" He asked recognizing the rhetoric.

"As a matter of fact I did talk to Agent Henriksen," came the reply. "Not that it helped any, he clearly didn't get the whole picture and he and no idea where I could find you."

"Why would you want to find us? What makes us so interesting?" Sam asked, wondering if they were going to have more feds running after them to add to all the supernatural beings that wanted their hides.

"Why wouldn't I? With such a track record! Anyway what allowed me to track you down was a nice little chat I had with one Robert Singer."

Sam and Dean both felt worry and anger at that statement; they did not like the idea of this fellow getting to Bobby.

"What did you do to him?" Sam asked through clenched teeth still holding his hands over his head.

"We talked. He was very helpful."

"Bullshit." Dean spat. "Bobby would never give us up."

"I convinced him."

"And how did you do that?"

"I came clean with him, which I probably should have done with you too."

"Wait, what?" Sam said, not able to process what the man was saying, the last words were not in accord to any that had preceded them.

The agent lowered his gun and gave a huge sheepish grin. "Sorry."

"Huh?" Dean lowered his hands now, getting ready to pull his own gun, he did not appreciate getting tricked.

"Woah, no need to do that! It's just that you were so hard to get a hold on, so I decided to have a bit of fun, I thought I deserved it. This job comes with too much death and grief, and you two have had me travelling across this continent, you should know that it isn't that much fun."

"You aren't here to arrest us?" Sam asked.

"Merlin, no."

"Merlin?" Dean muttered, exchanging a look with Sam. "Are you even an agent?"

"Yep." The badge was pulled out again, and the bespectacled man tossed it to Sam.

"Agent Harry Potter, IBSI," Sam read out loud. "What does IBSI stand for?"

"International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation."

"What kind of nut job are you?" Dean asked, taking a steadier grip on his gun. "What do you want with us?"

The agent smiled. "Gentlemen, I would like to offer you employment."

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**End Chapter 1**

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**AN 27th February 2013 **(9th October 2013)**:**

This story came out of nowhere. I just got an idea and it was short so I wrote it in about an hour and so this was born. I hope you like it. There is more to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation**

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**Chapter 2  
**_Words: 1 309_

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"Excuse me?" Dean wasn't buying it. Nuh-uh, no way in hell or on earth. This was not the way it was meant to go down. It was much easier to believe the first part of this guys story, that he wanted to arrest them, that he was the part of some wacko parody of the Men in Black franchise was something he was not about to buy.

"All perks, no downsides, not really anyway. Will you listen to a proposition?"

"Ehrm, well, we," Sam started. He still felt out of his depth. This man was strange, and they made a living of handling strange so that they couldn't understand what was going on was saying something. And like Dean he didn't think the story was particularly likely.

"Yeah, you might not have gotten the best first impression of your potential boss," the man continued, sheepish grin at full capacity. "Sorry about that."

"What?"

"I am the one who started up the Bureau, it's rather recent. My people, you will find out about us eventually, anyway we do not get involved much, but with what's going on, the supernatural things of this world acting out, I realized that it was only a matter of time before they become a real problem, and after some things happened to me earlier in life I got enough standing to do something about it."

"Your people? Why don't I like the sound of that," Dean muttered.

"You might not to begin with, but we are the good guys."

"Now it's okay to say _good guys_? Just before you used it to mock us."

"Dean," Sam warned.

"He was asking for it."

Sam glared. Dean looked back, but Sam came winning out of the nonverbal argument.

"Agent Potter, would you explain what's going on?"

"Agent? Ah, Sammy! He's not a real agent. International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation, come on! That's just a stupid made up name!"

Potter smirked. "You should hear the other suggestions, they were even worse. Maybe IBSI is of better liking to you. That's what the _normals _know us as after all, we let them come up with their own interpretation of what the initials stand for. We couldn't very well go around saying what we really do, people might think we were crazy. "

"Tell me about it," Dean snarked.

"The important thing is that the people that matter do know, and by growing through the legal channels that were available to me I was able to create an organization that has the authority to do what has to be done. We outrank any organization you can come up with and are established in over two-hundred-and-twenty nations worldwide. We have the right to use violence, to take prisoners, to impersonate any agency, and when speaking to them it should be enough to tell them that you're working for IBIS, they don't know what we do, but the sure as hell know when we show up we are the ones controlling the game."

"Okay," Sam said nodding.

"Good, you're considering it."

"I sure as hell aint," Dean muttered under his breath, earning himself another glare from his brother.

"The thing is we need more agents," Potter continued in a slightly louder voice, "and people like you are exactly who we need. People, who are prepared to do what it takes, but have the sense to think before they act, well most of the time anyway. We could train people, but this isn't something you learn over night and we haven't got the time. Ergo I have been tracking down hunters across the states for a few months now. It's not easy as you are all so paranoid, but that's what we're looking for so I shouldn't complain."

"Okay," Sam said again. "What else can you tell us about this?"

"Well, as I mentioned FBI won't trouble you any more, that means that your criminal records will get wiped, a nice clean slate. You get access to all of our recourses, guns, silver, unlimited supply of holy water, info, you name it we either got it or can get it for you."

"It sounds good," Sam said, beginning to relax slightly.

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Winchester. Then there are other practical things, insurance, health care, we've got ways to stitch you up like nothing you've seen, and then the final perk: you will get paid for the work you do."

"There must be a catch." Dean said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. This Potter person was much to smooth. Starting out like he had in the grave yard and now all these _perks_ if only they agreed to work for him.

"The catch is that you will occasionally be assigned missions, and when you are, you have to take them, not questions asked, no reservation, but they will be important. You are also required to write short reports on all your hunts and send them back to us. We are trying to expand our information base and every bit helps. My interest is to keep people safe and to do that I need good people to call upon and information to make it possible to do the job. It is a simple as that."

"Alright, say I believe you, what would the pay be?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed.

"What?"

Potter smiled. "What would you say to 9000 dollars a month?" He paused taking in their reaction, which were just blank faces. "No? Okay, maybe I wasn't clear enough. 9000 dollars each and I suppose we can throw in a bonus or two for a job well done every once in a while."

Dean smiled back now. Sam though made wide eyes. "That much?" he asked.

Potter shrugged. "It's a high risk job, they pay only shows that."

"Where does all the money come from?"

"Here and there, we get by on a lot of private funding, but the governments worldwide are interested in keeping people safe too, and that is a service we are able to provide."

"Would you excuse us for a minute?" Sam asked. "Dean, come on."

They walked away a few paces, standing so that they could still see Potter. "You know what, Sammy. I'm starting to like this guy," Dean said with a broad smile.

"You would just because he offers us money, but can we trust this?"

"Perhaps not, but it would be great. I'd know you'd be alright once I'm… you know."

"Once you go to hell you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps they can help you with that too."

"No, Sam, I've said it before; if we try anything you die so we won't."

"Well, I don't know, what do you think we should do?"

"Make sure he isn't a demon or anything else, and if he's clear we should accept."

"Just like that?"

"9000 dollars each month? Hell yeah."

Sam shook his head. "Do you have any holy water?"

"Not on me, it's in the Impala."

"Okay."

They walked back to the Agent.

"What's the consensus?" he asked.

"We're thinking about accepting," said Sam.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Christo," Dean said none too subtly.

The man blinked but his eyes remained the same. "I guess you don't trust me."

"Not yet," Dean answered.

"I get that. Hmm. So here's what I think you should do. Go back to Mr. Singer talk to him. Look me up or whatever. If you are interested come see me here." He walked up to them and handed a slip of paper to Sam. "You need to be there within two weeks; otherwise I'll surmise that you want nothing to do with IBSI."

"You expect us to just show up?"

"Sure. I'll give you a run through our operation and once you've got a feeling for it, we can have you perform a trial run before you become permanently employs. So, I'll see you."

The agent turned and walked away without another world, leaving Sam and Dean standing there by the still smouldering remains in the dug up grave.

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**End Chapter 2**

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**AN 19 September 2013 **(13th October 2013)**:**

So, Chapter 2. It was already posted in All About Harry, but I made you wait for it *evil laugh* (imagine Misha Collin as the Leviathans at the end credits of episode 1 season 7), having decided that once it reached 1000 views I would post and the time has come…

Anyway… I have started on chapter 3. Can't say when it'll be done, but it will happen sometime. In the mean time, let me know what you thought.


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